In the Mean Time
by adventuresinposting
Summary: What kind of life did Dean really life with Lisa and Ben in the year after Sam's death? A series of one-shots of the life Dean led with the Braedens between season 5 and 6. Hurt/comfort/drama/humor. Rated T for language
1. Nightmares

_**A/N:** This will be a series of non-linear one shots. I loved Lisa and Dean's relationship, and I don't think Lisa was given near enough credit for everything she did for Dean during the year between season 5 and 6. I've always wondered how living a normal life really went for Dean, especially while he was dealing with the grief of losing Sam, so I'm writing stories to try and document/ explore it._

I'm sure others have ideas of what may or may not have happened during that year, so I'm happy to take suggestions. It may just take me a bit to write them, but no worries! I will get to them.

Dates are weird for the year spent with Lisa and Ben._Pre season 6, the seasons matched up with real world time. _In the show, it would have been roughly May 2010- August 2011, while in the real world only summer had passed. I've chosen to use the timing in the show, putting this series of one shots in 2010-2011.

* * *

**_August 2010, three months after Swan Song._**

Dean was running.

He flew past dark trees, the dense underbrush snagging his flying feet. Branches reached for his face and arms, leaving scratches and tearing at his clothes. He could only hear his own breathing as his feet pounded the ground beneath him.

Dean focused on the path ahead of him. He knew where he needed to go.

The forest suddenly thinned out, and Dean stuttered to a stop at the edge of cliff.

"Sam!"

His call echoed out over the vast and barren terrain stretching in front of him, a stark contrast to the dense woods behind him.

Dean peered over the edge of the cliff, straining to see the bottom of the endless cavern. Because at the bottom, far out of his reach, was his brother. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he strained to hear anything that might indicate Sam's presence.

"Sam!" Dean called again between harsh breaths. The darkness swallowed his call. He leaned farther over the edge, the ground beneath him threatening to crumble away. "Sam!" he called again in desperation.

He leaned ever further, and suddenly the ground beneath his feet fell away.

He was falling, falling, falling….

Dean shot up in bed, breathing as heavily as he had been in his dream. He was drenched in sweat, eyes darting around as he took in his surroundings. A nightstand with a lamp and his watch was to his left, a dark figure under the covers to his right. As he realized where he was, a bitter mix of grief and relief filled him.

Dean swallowed hard, struggling to calm his breathing. He swung his legs out of bed and hid his face in his hands, fingers pushing into his closed eyes until starbursts appeared.

It wasn't real.

It was never real.

Sighing heavily, Dean got up and shuffled to the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. He closed the door behind him, careful not to make too much noise. He left the light off, preferring the strange comfort the darkness brought him. Light would reveal too much. He leaned heavily on the bathroom counter, the edge of the cold stone biting into his hands and grounding him in reality.

_Sam's gone. _

The weight of those two words was heavy in Dean's heart. Even now, months later, Dean needed to remind himself that his brother was dead. Or at least, Dean hoped he was dead because the alternative would be far, far worse.

Dean chuckled darkly. What kind of fucked up life did he live where he hoped his brother was dead?

At first, Sam's death hadn't truly registered with Dean. There had been no body to bury, Sam swallowed up by the literal hell hole that was Lucifer's cage. Dean still remembered the roaring of hell, the stink of decay and God knows what else. He remembered the sudden silence after Sam, possessed by Lucifer, jumped into that hole. He would have that seemingly innocent stretch of field where his brother had disappeared seared into his mind forever. It taunted him, making it seem like Sam was so close.

But Dean knew better. Sam was far beyond Dean's reach, that knowledge haunting him. As the days dragged on into months, Dean had started to accept the reality that he wasn't going to round a corner to find Sam researching at the table with his laptop. Sam would never come through the door carrying dinner from the diner down the street. He would never occupy the passenger seat of the Impala again.

But his acceptance of that fact hadn't diminished the nightmares that plagued Dean both in wakefulness and sleep. It didn't diminish his feelings of guilt, or the black pit of loss Dean felt. His only consolation was the knowledge that Sam had saved the world. It was strange to think that the fate of the world had come down to Sam, to his Sammy.

And yet, it was fitting.

Dean found himself staring in the mirror, the moonlight streaming through the small bathroom window casting his face into shadow. If Dean didn't know better, he would say he looked like a ghost. He certainly felt like one.

"Dean?"

A soft voice called through the bathroom door, pulling Dean out of his miserable thoughts. Dean didn't answer, running a hand over his face.

"Dean, can I come in?"

He sighed deeply before shuffling the few steps to the door and opening it. Lisa slowly pushed the door open, leaning on the door-jamb and crossing her arms as Dean moved back to assume his position in front of the mirror. She wore a simple dressing gown that hung open; she hadn't bothered cinching it closed. Her deep brown eyes carefully took in the man standing in front of her.

When Dean had shown up on her doorstep three months ago at 3 in the morning, Lisa knew something bad had happened. The absence of his brother was obvious, not only physically but because somehow Dean seemed less than what he had been. They hadn't really talked much that first night. Lisa had just sat with Dean on the living room coach, each of them at opposite ends, forgotten beers growing warm. It had taken many more of those nights and several glasses of whiskey before Dean had said much of anything to Lisa about what had happened, but eventually Lisa understood.

Sam was dead, and Dean was alive. It was cruelly simple.

Now, Lisa looked at the man in front of her and barely recognized him. His grief and guilt were eating away at him. His head hung low, staring down at the hands that again gripped the bathroom counter.

Dean's grief pained her. In an almost naïve way, Lisa wished she could wipe away his pain with a simple kiss. She wished there was an easy way to make the sparkle of life that she loved come back into his eyes. But it wasn't that simple. Life was never that simple. Death was never that simple.

If the past few months had taught Lisa anything it was that Winchester men were stubborn as hell when it came to accepting help. Despite her wishing Dean's pain away, Lisa knew a grief like this would take months or more likely years to heal. So, she told herself to be patient. All she could do is be there for him while he coped, pull him away from that one bottle too many, and to wait for the moment when he needed her.

It seemed that moment was now. Standing only in his boxers, Dean was suddenly exposed in more ways than he had ever been in the past several months.

Lisa moved to stand next to Dean, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Dean let out a shuddering breath at her touch.

"Oh, Dean," Lisa breathed out. She gentle pulled him away from his hard stance at the counter, and pulled him into her arms. Dean buried his face in her hair, holding her tightly to him, her cheek against his bare chest just below his tattoo.

"What am I supposed to do, Lisa?" he whispered into her hair.

It was a question Lisa was expecting. She gripped him tighter, listening to his heart beat under her ear.

"You live your life."

"Why?" Dean breathed out.

"Because that's what you do. You keep going, one day at a time, and you live your life."

"Why should I get to live when Sam is dead?"

Lisa slowly pulled away from Dean, cupping his face in her hands and gently lifting so that she could look up into his face. A sadness filled his eyes that almost broke Lisa's heart. She pulled herself together. She needed to be strong for him.

"You owe it to Sam to go on. He would want you to live your life without him. He would want you to be happy. So you have to try and move on. For Sam."

"I can't," Dean whispered, tears starting to pool in his eyes.

"Yes, you can," Lisa insisted, "If you want to, you can. Give it time." A tear escaped from Dean's eye, and Lisa brushed it away with her thumb. "I'm here, Dean. You don't have to do it alone."

Dean let out a shuddering breath, and looked into Lisa's warm, brown eyes, eyes that were pleading with him to see the truth in her words. Dean knew Sam had sent him to her for this very reason. Lisa wouldn't turn him away, for some reason Dean still didn't understand.

He missed Sam. God he missed him.

"Sammy's gone."

Lisa pulled Dean's head forward so their foreheads were touching. "Yes, he is," she said softly.

"But I'm still here," Dean's voice was trembling with the effort to control his emotions, "And you're still here."

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean."

"I don't deserve…" Dean started before Lisa cut him off.

"Don't. Don't even start Dean Winchester," Lisa said sternly, "It's not about who deserves what. I'm here because I want to be here. I want to be here with you. I want to help through this. But you have to let me."

Dean was quiet for a minute. In the darkness of the night, Lisa couldn't make out the expression on his face.

"I didn't save him," he finally said quietly.

Lisa sighed. "You did save him, Dean. You did. You were there for your brother when no one else could be. You pulled him away from an evil that I can't even begin to comprehend. You made it possible for Sam to do what he has always needed to do: save the world from all those evil sons of bitches."

Dean smiled weakly at Lisa's use of his phrase. He realized that he probably referred to demons more often as "evil sons of bitches" than as demons. It was fitting, really, that she would use his words now.

"You saved the world just as much as Sam did."

Dean started to shake his head, but Lisa caught his face between her hands again to look him in the eyes.

"Dean, you did."

"I di-," Dean started before Lisa cut him off.

"You did what you were supposed to do," Lisa insisted, "You took care of Sammy."

Dean suddenly began crying in earnest, dignity forgotten as all the emotions he had been hiding for the past several months spilled over.

"Shhh, it's ok. I'm here. You're not alone." Lisa soothed, pulling him back into a hug. "I'm here." Dean said nothing, but when he didn't make a move to pull away, Lisa knew that he had finally accepted her words. He had accepted her.

Sometimes Lisa wished she was bigger, just so that she could pull Dean into a hug that would protect from all the wickedness in the world that always seemed to find him. But at that moment, it would have to be enough that she could hold him.

"I'm here."

A few minutes passed, Lisa holding Dean as he slowly regained his composure. Dean pulled away from Lisa, slightly embarrassed and wiping his hands over his eyes. He let out a deep, exhausted sigh.

Lisa must have heard his exhaustion, because she took his cold hand in her warm one and pulled him back into the bedroom. He didn't want to think any more. He didn't want to move any more.

She had him sit on the edge of the bed while she rearranged the covers that had tangled during his nightmare.

"I'm sorry."

Lisa paused in the act of putting a fresh pillowcase on Dean's pillow. "Hey," she cupped his face before saying, "You have nothing to be sorry about. Nothing." She kissed him softly on the forehead.

"C'mon," she said quietly.

Lisa guided an exhausted Dean back into bed, crawling in behind him and pulling him close.

"You're ok," she whispered as she began to card her hand through his hair. She slowly felt the tension in Dean leaving, his breath evening out as emotional and physical exhaustion pulled him into sleep.

She hoped and prayed his sleep would be dreamless.

"I'm here," she whispered to the dark.

"I'm here."

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_**A/N:** I have a lot of ideas for this series. I hope to update at least once a week, but don't hold me to that! :)_


	2. Halloween

**Halloween, 2010**

"Dude! Check me out!"

Dean looked up from the newspaper he was reading to find a monster in front of him, arms outstretched menacingly. He grinned, taking in the grotesque mask, the tight black clothes, and the prostatic hands with long, claw like fingers.

"Not bad, dude," Dean said, nodding his approval, "A little short for a Wendigo, but still pretty good. You're going to scare the crap out of all the other kids."

"Duh. That's the point. It's Halloween," Ben said, his voice muffled by the mask, "Plus, I'm a real monster. Not just something stupid from a movie." Ben moved his arms around in an attempt to appear more terrifying. "What noise does a Wendigo make?"

"They don't really make a noise," Dean said, pushing himself up from the couch. He walked around Ben slowly, leaning in to whisper in his ear, "They imitate human voices, luring victims away from their groups." Dean pulled away, and continued to circle around Ben, "And then, when you're all alone, they take you back to their lair. A cave maybe. Or a mine. Somewhere dark where no one can find you." Dean's voice was dangerously quiet. "They keep you around for a few days. You know," Dean paused for dramatic effect, "before they eat you."

Ben gulped, and flipped his mask up to reveal a face full of nervousness.

"Hey Dean?"

Dean flopped back down on the couch, his voice regaining its usual tone, "Yeah?"

"There aren't Wendigos around here, are there?"

Dean chuckled. Maybe he had been a little too good at trying to make Ben see that the monster is was impersonating was a creature to be feared. "No, Ben. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out like that." Ben still looked nervous. "Hey. Come here."

Ben walked the few paces to where Dean was sitting. Dean clasped his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry. Wendigos keep to the woods much farther west. You're safe here. I'm here."

"And you would light their ass on fire, right?"

"That's right."

Ben smiled, his worry gone.

When Dean had moved in with Lisa and Ben earlier in the year, Ben had bombarded Dean with requests for monster stories. Dean had at first refused, which Lisa had been glad for. But soon, as Dean settled more into this life he now led, he found himself sneaking in stories while the two of them played baseball or worked on cars in the driveway. Ben had been fascinated, largely because Dean left out the gory details and instead concentrated on the mystery. When Ben had asked Dean to help him make a Wendigo costume for Halloween, Dean had of course obliged. Dean couldn't help but realize some kind of weird irony in having Ben dress up as a creature Dean usually hunted. But he had reminded himself that those days were over. This is what normal people did.

"I still wish you would have decided to be something a little less scary, Ben," Lisa said, walking into the living room. She herself was wearing a Wonder Woman costume, complete with lasso, boots, and tiara. She didn't miss the quick once over Dean gave her, the little smirk she loved creeping onto his face for second before Dean turned his attention back to Ben. "You don't want to be Batman? Superman maybe?" she asked.

"No way! This is way cooler." Ben said, flipping his mask back onto his face. "Besides, I was Spiderman last year. This year, I'm going to scare the pants off Billy Chapman."

Dean laughed. "That's my boy. Don't let your enemies rule you."

The doorbell rang just then. "I'll get it!" Ben yelled as he bolted to the front door.

Dean found himself looking at Lisa again, this time not hiding his grin. "You look great you know."

"Yeah. I know," Lisa said with a smirk.

"Mom! My friends are here! I'm going!" Ben called from the front door.

"Alright! Be careful! Home by 9, you hear me!"

"Yes Mom!"

The front door slammed shut, leaving Lisa and Dean alone in the silence. Lisa flopped down on the couch next to Dean, pulling his arm over her shoulder.

"You doing ok?" Lisa asked quietly.

Dean was quiet.

"Dean?"

Dean sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm ok. It's just weird. This is my first Halloween with pretend monsters."

"A nice change, I'm guessing?"

"I guess so. It helps that I have Wonder Woman next to me," Dean said shrewdly, pulling Lisa closer. "Oh, shut up," Lisa said before Dean kissed her deeply.

The doorbell rang, and Dean groaned. "Do you want to get it?" Lisa asked.

Dean scoffed. "Yeah right. This holiday is weird enough already. I don't think I can deal with kids dressed up like Dracula and that sparkly kid from those vampire movies."

Lisa laughed. "Yeah, me neither. But someone has to hand out the candy." Lisa untangled herself from Dean, and went to front door as the bell rang again.

Dean sighed heavily. What a difference a year made.

At least there was candy.

* * *

_This one was short to get me writing again. Hopefully a longer one will be next._

_Let me know your thoughts :) Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	3. Deep Cut

_**A/N:** This one contains a wee bit of blood. Just a fair warning._

* * *

**June 2010, two months after Swan Song**

"Dean! DEAN!"

Ben's frantic calls rang throughout the house as the front door slammed open.

Dean ran from the kitchen where he making sandwiches to find Ben in the front foyer, his right arm clutched tightly to his chest and wrapped in what looked like a t-shirt. Ben was pale, worry and pain written all over his sweat slicked face. Another boy with sandy blond hair and freckles stood next to him in what seemed to be his undershirt. Dean recognized him as one of Ben's good friends, Nick.

"Hey hey hey. What's going on?" Dean asked as he rushed forward to clasp Ben's shoulder, "What happened?"

"I cut my arm. There was blood like everywhere," Ben said, his eyes wide.

"Alright, calm down. Take a deep breath for me." Dean said evenly. He turned to Nick, who seemed more controlled and asked, "What happened?"

"We were playing over on Elm and he slipped and he cut his arm and there was all this blood everywhere and I wrapped it in my t-shirt 'cause there was blood everywhere and we didn't know what to do so we came here," Nick said in one breath.

Dean chuckled softly, "Alright. Just breath, dude. You're fine. I'll take care of this. Thanks for bringing him home, Nick."

When Nick didn't move, Dean asked, "What is it?"

"Are we in trouble, Mr. Winchester?" Nick asked nervously.

Dean grimaced slightly when the kid called him Mr. Winchester. In his mind, "Mr. Winchester" would always be his father. "Why would you be in trouble, Nick? Accidents happen."

"Yeah. Ok." Nick said quietly. He spared Ben a quick a glance and small smile before turning around and shutting the door behind him.

"C'mon. Let's take a look at that." Dean said softly, gently nudging Ben towards the downstairs bathroom.

Ben had calmed down considerably, and was just looking a little pale now. Dean had Ben sit on the closed toilet seat, his injured arm resting on the bathroom counter. Ben grimaced as Dean slowly peeled back the t-shirt to find a deep gash running the length of Ben's forearm. It was still sluggishly bleeding, the liquid running down Ben's arm and onto the now ruined t-shirt beneath it.

Ben winched as he looked down at it.

"Does it hurt?"

Ben debated for a second before replying, "A little. Not really."

Dean grabbed a washcloth from the small stack next to the sink, running it under cool water. "Mom's gonna kill you if you get blood on that," Ben said.

Dean shrugged. "I think she'll make an exception."

Ben's snickers turned to a hiss of pain as Dean started cleaning away the dirt and dried blood. "I think Nick may have been exaggerating just a bit. This really doesn't look too bad," Dean said, "But it is going to need a couple stitches."

Ben gulped. "Ok."

"Alright, Ben. Moment of truth. We can go to the hospital, sit in the ER for a few hours, and have someone there stitch this up for you. Or I can do it right now in a couple minutes. Your choice."

Ben's eyes went wide. "You can do stitches?"

"Sure can. I can even show you my resume if you want."

"Your resume?" Ben asked, puzzled.

In answer, Dean pulled up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal several silvery scars on his left arm "I did most of these. It's kind of hard to do on yourself, but not impossible." When Sam was at Stanford, a poltergeist had decided Dean needed to go through a window; it was one of the few times Dean had needed to do first aid on himself.

"Woah," Ben said under his breath. Dean was a bit of mystery to Ben. All he knew for sure is that Dean and his brother had saved him from a monster when he was little. Ben figured he must be some kind of spy or undercover police officer. He always seemed a little sad too. Ben thought maybe it had something to do with his brother, but somehow he knew better than to ask.

"So what'll it be?"

Ben debated, glancing down at the gash on his arm that had finally stopped bleeding. He wished he hadn't been so clumsy, and he wouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place. But, like Dean said, accidents happened. And if anyone knew how to clean up accidents, it would be Dean. Plus, Ben definitely did _not_ feel like sitting in a hospital waiting room for hours on end.

"You can do it," he said firmly.

Dean nodded, and then proceeded to gather everything he needed from the well-stocked first aid kit under the sink. Old habits die hard.

As Dean prepped a needle, he caught the look on Ben's face. He looked scared. Normally, Dean would give his patient a good swig of whiskey to calm the nerves and dull the pain. But Ben was 11. Even Dean hadn't started drinking that young. Plus, Lisa really would kill him for that one.

Dean dug around in the kit, finally finding what he was looking for: lidocaine cream. When Dean had insisted on keeping a first aid kit, Lisa had insisted it at least be a civilized one. Dean had balked at her request, figuring he would be the only one to ever need use of the kit, but now he was glad for it.

After spreading a liberal amount of the cream and waiting for the numbing to take effect, Dean started in on his stiches.

Ben was quite, the slight pull of the needle through skin uncomfortable, but not painful. He was mesmerized by Dean's quick and professional hands as they stitched the wound closed.

"So you want to tell me what really happened?" Dean said quietly, glancing up from his work, "Nick seemed pretty scared that you guys would get in trouble."

Ben sighed. He fidgeted with a hole in his jeans. "We were just messing around in the old Wickham house. Robby says it's haunted, and that nobody goes in there because the ghosts will get you. We told him we weren't scared so he dared us to go in."

Dean chuckled lightly. "And you did?"

"Duh," Ben replied, rolling his eyes, "I mean, I guess it was kinda creepy. But I wasn't scared," Ben insisted.

"I believe you."

"We went into the kitchen – that's where they say Wickham killed his daughter – and I tripped and fell onto this old metal table that had all these jagged edges. I didn't really realize I was bleeding till Nick started freaking out. He kinda freaked me out. And then we came back here."

Dean made a mental note about the old Wickham house being "haunted"; he'd have to check that out later. Even if he was technically retired, a little ghost hunt sounded pretty appealing right about now. He could always call another hunter to take care of it.

Dean finished up his ministrations, applying a liberal amount of antibiotic cream and covering the whole thing in gauze.

"Keep that on there until it heals a bit. You don't want to get an infection." Dean instructed.

Ben nodded as he watched Dean clean up the first aid kit, throwing the blood stained washcloth in the trash.

"Are you gonna tell Mom?"

Dean looked at Ben. Lisa was out running errands, leaving Dean to keep tabs on Ben. "I think we have to, Ben. It's going to be hard to hide 8 stitches from your Mom."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Hey don't worry about it, ok? It really was an accident."

"Yeah." Ben still looked nervous.

"Just…maybe leave out the part about the haunted house, ok?"

"You won't tell?!" Ben exclaimed, shocked that Dean was on his side.

Dean crouched down so he was eye level with Ben. "I'll make you a deal. You have to promise me never to go in that house again, and I won't tell your Mom you were in there. Deal?" Dean offered his hand.

"Deal!" Ben said with a grin, shaking Dean's hand.

Dean grinned himself, pushing himself up with a groan. He was really getting out of shape, living in suburbia like this. "Alright. Let's say you and me get some lunch, huh?"

"Definitely!" Ben said enthusiastically.

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_**A/N**: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! I've gotten a few requests, and I'll be working on those. But please post one if you have one! _


	4. Home

_**A/N:** Sorry it took a bit for this update! Real life is hitting me hard._

This one is for Tospringe, who requested Lisa learning about Dean's upbringing. Hopefully this is what you were looking for :) 

* * *

**_June 2010, roughly one month after Swan Song_**

"Dean? Dean, I'm back!"

Lisa's call went unanswered. She pulled her keys out of the front door with one hand, groceries balanced in the other. She'd just dropped Ben off at summer camp, where he would stay for the next three weeks. With Ben out of the house, Lisa hoped she would have the time and energy to get through to Dean in his grief.

Lisa walked into the kitchen to deposit her goods, noting that Dean wasn't in his usual spot in the living room, a haphazard pile of supernatural books marking his territory. "Dean?" she called again.

Still no answer.

Dean had been living with the Braeden's for a little over a month. He had been on edge, jumpy and neurotic, for much of that time, afraid for something that Lisa didn't want to ask about. She knew he hunted the things that went bump in the night, but she didn't know if those things were also hunting him. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Worry clenched her heart as Lisa walked outside to the small shack that functioned as a garage. It was the last place Dean could be. With trepidation, she slowly opened the door.

Her worry was short lived as she spotted Dean sitting in the front seat of the big black car he loved, staring blankly down at the steering wheel.

"Dean?" Lisa called out hesitantly. She slowly approached the car, leaning down to look at Dean through the open window. Dark circles marred his handsome features under eyes blank and unseeing. "Dean? Hey. It's me. I'm back," she said gently.

Dean blinked several times as he came out of his reverie. He looked around blearily, surprised to find Lisa there. "Hey," he said in a low, raspy voice.

"You ok?"

Dean cleared his throat, coming back to himself a little more as he did so. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm ok."

Lisa noted the half empty whiskey bottle sitting next to him on the bench seat, and figured his response was more or less truthful. Dean had been drinking a lot, but he usually managed to keep it to the evening hours for Ben's sake. Lisa figured that with Ben gone that self-imposed rule was gone too.

"What are you doing out here?"

Dean didn't answer.

"Can I join you?"

Dean hesitated briefly, before nodding his head once.

Lisa climbed into the passenger side, the metallic creak of the door loud in the small garage. She had only ever admired the Impala from afar, knowing that it was Dean's domain. But now it seemed he was losing himself in it.

She sat quietly, taking in the car's interior. The floor mat beneath her feet was worn away in very specific places, as if one person had frequented this seat much more often than anyone else. The leather was creased and cracked by one person's almost continuous use.

_Sam. _

While Lisa hadn't really known Sam, she still felt his lose as she sat in what had been his place. She grabbed the whiskey bottle from Dean's loose grip, taking a hefty swing.

Dean looked at her, slightly bewildered. "What?" Lisa said, "I can't day drink too?"

"Just surprised is all."

"Oh, come on. Just because I have kid now doesn't mean I don't know how to drink."

Dean pursed his lips in agreement, but said nothing.

She ran her fingers along the door paneling, feeling the well cared for leather. A silence fell between them, and Lisa quickly realized Dean wasn't going to be the one to break it.

"You guys did a lot of driving in this car, huh?"

Dean scoffed. "That's an understatement. I'm pretty sure I've spent more of my life in this car than out of it."

"Even when you were a kid?"

Dean looked at Lisa as she took another pull from the bottle, her deep brown eyes never leaving his face. Seems like she wasn't going to let him sit here alone then. He inwardly cursed and thanked her for it.

Dean sighed heavily.

"Well, not so much then. Dad tried to let us stay in one place as often as he could so we could go to school. He would get some kind of crappy job, rent some crappy old apartment or house, and we'd stay somewhere for a while. It was nice… until Dad found another hunt."

Dean took the whiskey bottle from Lisa and took another swig. He chuckled to himself.

"I remember this one time, we were living in this little podunk town in California. Dad had rented this little house, so we actually had a yard for once. Think I was about 10. Sammy couldn'tve been older than 6 or 7. Dad was at work so it was me and Sammy. He did something stupid to piss me off – can't even remember what it was – so I locked him out of the house. He cried and pounded the door for like an hour and I still wouldn't let him in. When I opened the door for dinner he was sitting on the stoop with a bunch of weeds in his hand. Said that's what people on TV do when they do something wrong – they give flowers." Dean smiled sadly, the usual sparkle missing from his eyes.

"Couldn't be mad at him after that." Dean muttered against the bottle as he took another pull.

"That's sweet." Lisa said quietly.

"Yeah, well, that was Sam." Dean said quietly. He looked up from where he was boring a hole into the steering wheel with his eyes to see Lisa looking at with those deep brown eyes he loved.

"You took care of him a lot, huh?"

"Yeah… I mean, I practically raised the kid. Didn't mean to. Just kind of happened. Dad would be gone on a hunt or at work and I was in charge of Sammy," Dean adopted a deep gruff voice in what Lisa supposed was an imitation of his father, "Watch out for Sammy. Make sure Sammy eats. Don't leave him alone. Make sure Sammy's safe. Lock the doors. Do your homework. God." Dean said the last voice with disgust.

"Sounds like he forget he was the Dad."

"He just… he wanted revenge. For the way my mom died. For what it did to our family," Dean scoffed, "We weren't much of a family after that. Dad took care of us the best way he knew how: orders. I was his little soldier," Dean said with disgust.

"Sam too?"

"No," Dean said vehemently, "No, I made sure Sammy got to be a kid for as long as possible."

Dean took a long pull from the bottle, exhaustion pushing him down.

"This car was our house, Lisa. I taught Sammy how to read in the backseat. I've bled in this car, with Sammy scared shitless trying to make the bleeding stop. He shouldn't have to have done that. There are still legos stuck in the vents when we'd been trapped in the car for too long. We never had a home, really. Sam was my home. This car was my home."

"Why are you telling me this?" Lisa asked.

Dean shrugged. He supposed his sudden story telling mood was a result of the whiskey bottle clutched tightly in his hand.

"Any more questions then?" Dean said, turning slightly to face Lisa.

Lisa paused, considering the many questions bouncing around her mind. "Why Ohio?"

"Ohio?" Dean asked, puzzled.

"The license plates. They're from Ohio."

"Oh." Dean sighed heavily, "I let Sam pick a state. He said Ohio was the most "inconspicuous" state we could get. Whatever the hell that means."

"What? Were you running from something?"

"Kind of. They were Kansas for a long time. That's where Mom and Dad were from. But we got in trouble with the law a couple years ago so we changed 'em. I still have the Kansas ones though."

A comfortable silence fell between them, interrupted only by the occasional slosh of whiskey as Dean or Lisa took a swig. It had been long time since Lisa had drank this much, and she felt it sitting warm and heavy inside her. There was a reason they called alcohol liquid courage. This was the most she had ever heard about Dean's childhood. Wanting to hear more, and desperate to keep Dean from retreating back into himself, she asked, "Did you hunt too? When you were a kid?"

"Yeah."

Lisa raised her eyebrows, and looked at him imploringly. "And?"

"Jesus, are you trying to get me to tell my life story or something?"

Lisa smirked. "Eventually." Her eyes sparkled mischievously.

Dean laughed lightly. He admired her boldness. "I was 8 when Dad took me shooting for the first time. Just bottles and stuff. But I was damn good at it."

"I'll bet," Lisa said with a grin.

"He took me out on my first hunt when I was 10. Just a salt and burn."

"Salt and burn?"

"Ghost hunt. When ghosts get vengeful you have to salt and burn their bones."

Lisa cringed. Sometimes it seemed like the man next to her was a complete stranger.

"Sometimes, Dean Winchester, you are a mystery to me."

Dean scoffed. "Why?"

"Because you raised a kid to be a kind hearted and brave man, but you also desecrate graves and exorcise demons. You are an enigma."

Dean pursed his lips. "I'm going to go with that's a good thing."

"It's a very good thing." Lisa said as she leaned over and kissed him. She felt Dean smile under her lips.

"C'mon. I thought we could order a pizza and watch Die Hard." Lisa said, climbing out of the car a little unsteadily. It really had been a while since she had drunk like this.

"Just give me a minute."

Lisa smiled sadly, but left Dean to himself in the garage. She walked back to the kitchen and started putting away the groceries, whiskey making her have to consider where certain things went.

The more Lisa heard about Dean and the way he had grown up, the more she understood the intense pain and grief at the lose of his brother. Sam was Dean's life, his home. The only thing Lisa could hope for is that Dean would see the home she was offering to him here. In the end, though, he would have to accept the offer himself.

Lisa heard the back door open, signaling Dean's arrival. She walked into the living to see him staring down at the pile of books he had slowly been collecting over the past month. Research, he would say when Lisa asked about it.

Lisa walked over to him, pulling him into a hug. He didn't often let himself be vulnerable like this, and whether it was because of whiskey or something Lisa had said, the fact that Dean was even letting her in like this was a good thing.

The two of them stood like that for a long time.

* * *

_**A/N:** Sorry if formatting is weird... Word was acting funny and I couldn't figure out how to fix all the weird line breaks. _

_As always, let me know your thoughts! I don't think I ended this very well, but I just wanted to be done with it._

_I'm about halfway through another chapter, so that will hopefully be up soon._


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